Chapter 29: Because You’re Pregnant

Morning,

Eiravelle was alone in Arielle’s bed after the golden rabbit was transferred to another bedchamber, carried gently by servants who had been instructed to treat the unconscious omega with the utmost care.

The room felt quieter now, emptier without the soft, shallow breathing of the golden rabbit to fill the silence. Arielle stayed beside her little sister’s bedside, her chair was pulled as close to the mattress as it could possibly be, and she wore soft robes in the shade of green.

The morning light filtered through the curtains, casting pale golden stripes across the floor and the bed, and somewhere beyond the window, birds sang their greeting to the new day. Arielle had not slept. She had dozed off once or twice in her chair, her head nodding forward before jerking upright again, but she had not allowed herself the luxury of proper rest.

She could not. Not while Eiravelle was still unconscious. Not while the poison was still receding. Not when there was even the smallest chance that something could go wrong.

She had stayed there through the night, never leaving her sister’s side, even though their family had told her—repeatedly and with increasing irritation—that because of Eiravelle, they had bothered the sovereign. That the whole affair was too much, an unnecessary inconvenience, a disruption to the household that should never have happened.

They saw this as too much, and they were angry again. Angry at Eiravelle for falling ill. Angry at Arielle for dragging the sovereign into their family affairs.

But Arielle just ignored them.

She had learned long ago that her parents’ anger was a thing to be endured rather than engaged with. They were proud people, obsessed with appearances and reputation, and anything that threatened their carefully constructed image of perfection was met with outrage and blame.

Arielle did not care. All that mattered was that Eiravelle was safe, including the child in her womb. The child whose existence would bring even more scandal, even more shame, even more anger from their parents.

Slowly, Eiravelle stirred.

The movement was small at first—a twitch of her fingers, a slight turn of her head—but it was enough to make Arielle sit up straight, her heart leaped into her throat. She leaned forward, her hand reached out to grasp Eiravelle’s, and she watched as her sister’s eyelids fluttered, struggling to open against the brightness of the morning light.

"Sister?" Eiravelle’s voice was weak, barely above a whisper, cracked from disuse and the lingering effects of the poison. She tried to adjust her vision, blinking slowly as the world swam into focus around her. The ceiling above her was unfamiliar, the bed beneath her was not her own, and for a moment, she felt a flicker of panic.

"Eiravelle...!" Arielle composed herself, forcing back the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes. She was excited, relieved, and overwhelmed with gratitude that her little sister was finally awake. "You’re awake now, thank goodness. I was so worried. I thought—I thought—"

She could not finish the sentence. The words were stuck in her throat, choked by emotion, and she simply squeezed Eiravelle’s hand tighter instead.

Eiravelle looked around the room, her brow furrowed in confusion. The bedchamber was familiar in a distant way—she recognized the green curtains, the bookshelves along the far wall, the painting of a meadow that hung above the fireplace. It was Arielle’s room. Why was she in Arielle’s room?

"What happened?" Eiravelle asked, her voice was still weak and strained.

Arielle sighed, a long, shuddering exhalation that carried the weight of the past day’s terror. "You were poisoned," she explained, keeping her voice as gentle as she could manage. "The Night Dazzling flowers you took care of—they were poisonous to you. You almost died, Eiravelle." A tear fell from Arielle’s eyes.

Eiravelle gasped, her eyes widened with shock. She frowned and looked away, her gaze was fixing on the window as she absorbed the information. The flowers she had tended to with such care, the beautiful blooms that had brought her so much joy—they had nearly killed her.

"I’m sorry," she whispered, her voice was trembling. "I didn’t mean it. I didn’t know it was—"

Arielle gently pulled her into a hug, cutting off her sister’s words before they could spiral into self-recrimination. She knew Eiravelle too well. She knew that her little sister would blame herself, would apologize again and again, and would drown in guilt over something that was not her fault.

"I thought I was losing you," Arielle said, her voice thick with emotion. "I was so scared, Eiravelle. I have never been so scared in my entire life. When I saw you lying there, with those black veins spreading across your skin, I thought—I thought I would have to bury you."

She pulled back and looked at her sister, her eyes are glistening with unshed tears. "I’m so glad that you’re safe now. I almost lost my mind. Because of that, I got rid of all the Night Dazzling flowers everywhere. Every single one of them. They’re gone, Eiravelle. No one else will ever be hurt by them again."

Eiravelle nodded slowly, understanding the gravity of what her sister had done. The flowers had been rare, expensive, a symbol of status for their family. Destroying them all would have been no small matter, and their parents would undoubtedly be furious when they discovered what Arielle had done.

But Arielle did not care. She would burn the entire garden to the ground if it meant keeping Eiravelle safe.

"I understand," Eiravelle said softly. "Thank you, sister. I don’t know what I would do without you."

Arielle’s face softened, but then a frown creased her brow. She withdrew slightly, her hands are still holding Eiravelle’s, and studied her sister’s face with an intensity that made Eiravelle’s confusion deepen.

"Sister... Is there something you’re not telling me?" Arielle asked, her voice was carefully neutral.

Eiravelle blinked, her expression was puzzled. "About what, sister? I don’t understand what you mean."

While they spoke, neither noticed the maid who had stopped at the door.

The maid had been sent by Arielle earlier to bring breakfast—a tray laden with warm bread, fresh fruit, and a pot of tea that steamed gently in the cool morning air. She had been instructed to leave it just inside the door and depart without disturbing the young ladies, but as she approached, she heard voices.

Lady Eiravelle was awake. The maid paused, her curiosity was getting the better of her, and she stood just outside the door, the tray was balanced in her hands and she was listening.

"Like... Who was the last alpha you’ve been with?" Arielle asked, her voice was gentle but insistent. "Like... Slept with? Was it Prince Kariv?"

Eiravelle shook her head, a flicker of discomfort crossing her features. "No, sister. We didn’t do things like that. Although he made advances, I refused him. I would never—I couldn’t—" She stopped, her cheeks were flushing with shame at the memory.

Arielle’s jaw tightened, but she forced herself to keep her composure. The thought of Kariv making advances toward her little sister, of him touching her, of him trying to take something that should only ever be freely given—it made her blood boil.

But she could not let her anger show. Eiravelle was fragile right now, still recovering, and Arielle did not want to add to her burden.

"Okay," she said, forcing a smile. "Okay, it’s fine. But you have to tell me... Was there someone? Perhaps a lover?"

Eiravelle shook her head again, her frown was deepening more. "Why are you asking these questions, sister? I don’t understand what you’re trying to—"

"Because you’re pregnant," Arielle said gently.

The words hung in the air between them, heavy and inescapable.

Eiravelle’s eyes widened, and her head snapped toward Arielle with a speed that must have hurt. Her mouth turned opened, but no sound came out. She stared at her sister, her expression was a mixture of shock, disbelief, and dawning horror.

"W-What?" She finally managed, her voice was barely a whisper.

Outside the door, the maid’s hand flew to her mouth, stifling the gasp that threatened to escape. Eiravelle was pregnant. The young lady of the Arthion household, unmarried and unclaimed, was carrying a child. The thought sent a chill down the maid’s spine. This was the kind of scandal that could destroy a family’s reputation, that could ruin a young omega’s prospects forever.

"You have to tell me who this alpha is," Arielle said, her voice was gentle but firm. She was trying to convey safety, trying to tell Eiravelle without words that she was safe here, that no matter what the truth was, Arielle would not judge her. "I need to know, Eiravelle. I need to understand what happened."

Eiravelle’s composure crumbled. Tears welled in her eyes and spilled down her cheeks, and her body began to shake with sobs that she could not control. She clutched at the blankets, her fingers are twisting in the fabric as if she were trying to anchor herself to something solid in a world that had suddenly become unsteady.

"I-I... I don’t know, sister..." She stammered, her voice was breaking. "She... She was a stranger... I... I just... I asked her to... To take my purity away because I was... Desperate."

The words tumbled out in a broken rush, each one was more painful than the last. Eiravelle could not look at her sister. She could not bear to see the disappointment, the disgust, or the judgment that she was certain would be there.

"I was so tired of being controlled," she continued, the words were pouring out like water from a cracked vessel. "Father and mother, they were always watching me, always telling me what to do, who to be, how to act. They never listened. And I thought—I thought if I could just have one thing that was mine, one choice that I made for myself, then maybe—maybe I could survive the rest of it."

She paused, her breath was hitching. "I went to the forest that night, and there she was. I didn’t know her, I still don’t know her name. But she was kind, she saved me from monsters. After that, I asked her—I begged her—to take me. To make me feel like I was worth something, even if it was only for a moment."

Arielle listened in silence, her heart was breaking with every word. She had known that their parents were difficult, that they placed impossible expectations on Eiravelle, they treated their youngest daughter more like a pawn than a person. But she had not realized how deep the pain went, how desperate her sister had become.

"Shhh~ don’t cry," Arielle said, pulling Eiravelle into a tight embrace. "I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Eiravelle. I should have protected you more. I should have seen how much you were suffering. I should have done something."

"You couldn’t have, sister," Eiravelle sobbed against Arielle’s shoulder. "No one could have. I was drowning, and I didn’t know how to ask for help. I’m so sorry. I’m such a disgrace. I’ve brought shame on our family, on you, on everyone—"

"You could never be a disgrace," Arielle interrupted fiercely, her arms tightened around her sister. "You could never, ever be a disgrace. You are my sister, and I love you, and nothing you have done or could ever do would change that. Do you understand me? Nothing."

Eiravelle’s sobs slowly quieted, though tears still streamed down her cheeks. She pulled back slightly, looking up at Arielle with red-rimmed eyes. "What if father and mother find out?" She asked, her voice was small and frightened. "They’ll be so angry. They’ll—they’ll disown me. They’ll throw me out of the house. They might even—"

"They wouldn’t know," Arielle said firmly. "I won’t tell them. No one will tell them. This stays between us, Eiravelle. I promise you that."

She kissed her sister’s forehead, a gesture of comfort and reassurance. "For now, I’ll find a suitable alpha you can marry. Someone kind, someone gentle, someone who will treat you and the child with the respect you deserve. There are options, Eiravelle. This is not the end of the world."

But Eiravelle shook her head violently, fresh tears began spilling down her cheeks. "I don’t want to, sister. Please—I don’t want to get married to another alpha. I can’t. I’m still trying to recover from the things that Kariv did, from the way he looked at me, touched me, tried to claim me without my consent. The thought of another alpha, of being bound to someone I don’t love, someone I don’t even know—I can’t bear it. I would rather die."

The last words were spoken with such conviction that Arielle’s blood ran cold. She held her sister tighter, pressing her cheek against Eiravelle’s hair, and made a silent vow.

"I know," she murmured. "I know. Shhh~ then I won’t look for an alpha. You don’t have to marry anyone, Eiravelle. You never have to do anything you don’t want to do. Just stay here, okay? Stay here with me, and I’ll take care of you. You and the baby, both of you. I’ll protect you. I promise."

Eiravelle clung to her sister, her body was shaking with the force of her relief and her fear. She did not know what the future held, she did not know how she would raise a child alone, how she would face the judgment of society, or how she would survive the wrath of her parents when they inevitably discovered the truth. But for now, in this moment, all that mattered was she’s safe.

Outside the door, the maid slowly backed away, her heart was pounding in her chest. She had heard everything—the confession, the pregnancy, the fear, and everything. She knew secrets now that could destroy the Arthion family, secrets that could ruin Lady Eiravelle’s life if they were revealed.

She looked down at the tray in her hands, the breakfast that was quickly growing cold, and made a decision. She would leave the tray outside the door, as she had been instructed.

The maid left immediately, she will inform Arisia about this.

The tray was left outside the door, untouched and forgotten. The maid walked away, her footsteps are echoing softly against the marble floor.

Inside the bedchamber, the silence stretched between the two sisters, broken only by the occasional hitch of Eiravelle’s breath as she struggled to compose herself. Arielle continued to hold her, one hand was rubbing slow, soothing circles on her back, the other was cradling the back of her head.

She did not speak. She did not offer more reassurances or promises. She simply held her sister, letting her cry, letting her grieve for the innocence she had lost and the future she had never wanted.

After a long while, Eiravelle’s sobs quieted into sniffles, and she pulled back slightly, wiping at her face with the sleeve of her nightgown. Her eyes were red and swollen, her cheeks became blotchy, but there was something in her expression that had not been there before—a flicker of hope, fragile and tentative, but present nonetheless.

"You really mean it?" She asked, her voice was hoarse. "You won’t make me marry anyone?"

Arielle shook her head. "I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to do. I promise."

"And the baby?" Eiravelle pressed, her hand was drifting unconsciously to her stomach. "What will happen to the baby?"

Arielle reached out and placed her hand over Eiravelle’s, covering the spot where new life was growing. "The baby will be loved," she said firmly. "By you, by me, by everyone in this household who matters. The baby will never want for anything, Eiravelle. I will make sure of it."

Eiravelle’s eyes filled with tears again, but this time, they were tears of gratitude rather than despair. "Thank you, sister," she whispered. "Thank you for not hating me."

Arielle’s heart clenched. "I could never hate you, Eiravelle. You are my sister, my blood, my family. Nothing you do could ever make me hate you. Do you understand that?"

Eiravelle nodded, though Arielle suspected she did not fully believe it. Years of their parents’ criticism and judgment had left their mark, and it had taught Eiravelle to expect the worst from those around her.

But Arielle would spend the rest of her life proving her wrong. She would show Eiravelle that she was worthy of love, that she deserved happiness, and that she was not the disgrace their parents had always made her feel like.

"Now," Arielle said, her tone was shifting to something more practical, "you need to rest. The healer said you need plenty of rest and proper nutrition to recover from the poison. I’ll have breakfast brought up—something light, maybe some broth and bread. And then you’re going to sleep, and I’m going to sit right here and make sure nothing disturbs you."

Eiravelle managed a weak smile. "You don’t have to do that, sister. You must have work to do. You’re the prime minister, after all."

Arielle snorted. "The prime minister can wait. My little sister is more important than any trade agreement or council meeting."

She stood and walked to the door, intending to call for a servant to bring fresh breakfast. But when she opened the door, she found the tray of cold food sitting on the floor, the tea was long since gone cold and the bread became stale. She frowned, wondering who had left it there and why they had not knocked.

A flicker of unease passed through her. Had someone been listening? Had someone overheard their conversation?

She shook her head, dismissing the thought. She was being paranoid. The servants were discreet, and even if someone had heard something, they would not dare to spread gossip about the Arthion family. The consequences would be too severe.

She picked up the tray and carried it back inside, setting it on a side table. "The breakfast is cold," she said apologetically. "I’ll call for something fresh."

But Eiravelle was already drifting back to sleep, her eyes are fluttering closed, her breathing was evening out into the slow, steady rhythm of slumber. Arielle watched her for a moment, her heart was full of love and protectiveness, and then she crossed to the bell pull and gave it a sharp tug.

A servant appeared within minutes, a young beta woman with kind eyes and a gentle demeanor. "Yes, my lady?"

"Bring fresh breakfast," Arielle instructed. "Something light—broth, bread, maybe some fruit and tea."

The servant nodded and hurried away. Arielle returned to her seat beside Eiravelle’s bed, her hand found her sister’s once more. She would sit here, she decided, for as long as it took. She would watch over Eiravelle, protect her, and make her feel love. And she would find a way to ensure that her sister and her nibling had the life they deserved.

The golden rabbit’s face flashed through her mind again, unbidden, and she felt her cheeks warm. She pushed the thought aside. There would be time to think about the golden rabbit later. There would be time to sort out her complicated feelings, to figure out what she wanted, to decide what to do.

For now, her only concern was Eiravelle.

The morning light continued to stream through the window, warm and golden, and somewhere beyond the walls of the manor, the world went on as it always had.